cultivated during nine years in Italy, and fortified by the most
powerful patronage of the age, it is no wonder that Kent was able
to cut a good figure in the world of art. He became the fashionable
decorator of the time in many directions, especially in relation to
great houses and their surroundings. Walpole had a poor opinion of
him as a painter, admired him as an architect, and praised him highly
as a garden designer. To us in the present day he appears as a man of
considerable ability and culture, who seldom rose above mediocrity,
especially in his architecture, which, however sound and correct, is
wanting in vivacity. Holkham is a case in point. There is nothing
novel about the plan (Fig. 188), save that the wings are closer to the
main building than usual; but in spite of this the kitchen is a long
way from the dining-room. The rooms are not particularly striking: the
finest are the entrance hall, and the sculpture gallery or “statue
gallery,” as it is called on the plan in “Vitruvius Britannicus.” The
house was designed for the reception of the numerous works of art
which the owner and builder, Thomas Coke (afterwards created Earl of
Leicester), collected in Italy. The collection of pictures, statues,
antiques, books, and manuscripts ranks among the finest in England.
The opinions of critics on the house are by no means unanimous. Sir
William Chambers, for instance, remarks how difficult it is to give
pleasing proportions to rooms of differing sizes, but which are all of
the same height, and so to arrange the smaller as to contrive suitable
mezzanines above them. “Holkham,” he says, “is a masterpiece in this
respect, as well as in many others. It deserves much commendation,
and does credit to the memory of Mr. Kent, it being exceedingly well
contrived both for state and convenience.”[74] Ferguson, on the other
hand, says: “We are left to conjecture whether the noble host and
hostess sleep in a bedroom 40 ft. high, or are relegated like their
guests to a garret or an outhouse, or perhaps may have their bedroom
windows turned inwards on a lead flat.” He goes on to say that although
the house may be “a monumental whole, yet the occupants would probably
prefer rooms of appropriate dimensions, where they could get fresh air
and a view of the park.”[75]
Both opinions are, or were, probably right. At the time it was built,
and for the wants of that period, Holkham was no doubt both convenient
and stately. But Ferguson’s criticisms find a ready echo in our own
bosoms, and they are a measure of the difference between the ideas of
the eighteenth and nineteenth centuries as to domestic comfort.
The exterior of Holkham (Fig. 189), although a departure from the
customary treatment, is hardly an improvement upon it. It is a little
monotonous, and the large extent of plain wall above the windows of
the principal floor has a dull effect. The plain turrets and the thin
cornice of the wings impart a meagre appearance, which is heightened by
the fact that the walls are of white brick, a material which remains
_triste_ to the end, although centuries may have endeavoured to
mellow it, as they have in vain at Hengrave Hall, in Suffolk.
[Illustration: FIG. 190.--The Horse Guards, Whitehall.]
Kent’s versatility is evidenced at Holkham in the furniture, most
of which was designed by him. It is characterised by a solidity and
massiveness, both of construction and decoration, in striking contrast
to the attenuated elegance of his successors.
Kent died in 1748, long before the house was finished; the Earl of
Leicester died in 1759, still leaving much to be completed. The manner
of his death brings home to us the changes which have taken place
in habits and customs even more vividly than does his house. Lord
Leicester had spoken slightingly of the militia at his own table, a
topic of general comment at the time; his remarks were taken ill by
George Townshend, his neighbour at Rainham, who challenged him to a
duel. Townshend was young and a practised duellist; Lord Leicester was
a staid gentleman of sixty-five. The result was a foregone conclusion,
and the older man died of his wound.[76]
Lady Leicester carried on the works at Holkham with the help of Matthew
Brettingham, of Norwich, who had been a pupil of Kent’s and had acted
as his assistant and clerk of the works. After the work was ended he
published the plans and elevations of the house in a book dedicated
to Lady Leicester, and claimed the whole credit of the design. But it
belongs in reality to Kent, and Holkham is an interesting example of
the work of one man, alike as to the house, its decoration and its
furniture.[77]
[Illustration: FIG. 191.--Kedleston, Derbyshire, 1761. Plan of
the Principal Floor.]
Although Holkham is his most notable achievement--unless we except the
Horse Guards, which has some resemblance to it in general treatment
(Fig. 190)--Kent was fully employed during his thirty years of active
work. He designed many houses and many gardens. One of the most
pleasing of the buildings at Stowe, the Temple of Ancient Virtues, was
his. His help was obtained in directions other than architecture, and
Walpole tells us that he designed birthday gowns for two ladies,
to which he gave a decidedly architectural turn. He must have spent
much time in producing “The Designs of Inigo Jones,” and it is not
improbable that he was the power behind the throne in respect of the
architectural efforts of Lord Burlington.
[Illustration: FIG. 192.--KEDLESTON HALL, DERBYSHIRE.
THE HALL.]
Brettingham had a certain connection with Kedleston, as he seems to
have designed and built one of the wings. He was succeeded by James
Paine, to whom the general design is attributed, which followed the
lines started by Brettingham. The house was to have had four outlying
wings, much after the fashion of Holkham, but only two were carried
out. The original plan looks very striking on paper (Fig. 191), but
it is one further proof of the way in which comfort was sacrificed to
grandeur by the architects of that time. All the principal rooms are
noble, those, that is, which were to be used on grand occasions; the
others are quite subordinate. The basement, which contains rooms in
daily use, seems overweighted by the superstructure, and is in fact too
low to allow the light to penetrate freely to the remoter parts of the
entrance. The bedrooms were, in the opinion of Dr. Johnson, who visited
the house with Boswell in September 1777, “but indifferent rooms.” The
hall is a lordly apartment with a row of lofty columns down each side
(Fig. 192). Some of the columns are monoliths, and one is of alabaster
from the locality. Dr. Johnson thought the house “would do excellently
for a town-hall; the large room with the pillars would do for the
judges to sit in at the assizes; the circular room for a jury-chamber;
and the room above for prisoners.” It is quite true that many of these
large houses produce an impression similar to that created by public
buildings.
The situation of the house is in keeping with the ideas prevalent at
the time. It is not, as of old, the centre of a formally disposed lay
out, with vistas stretching away from its principal windows. It stands,
indeed, askew with all points of view, on a slope of the park, backed
by a long range of trees which crowns the summit of the hill; behind
another group of trees lie the stables, connected to the house by a
sunk way. A contemporary bridge in the park, over which the approach
is carried, lies in haphazard relation to the house. But this was
all part of the design, which aimed not at any formal lay out, but
at a result which should convey the impression that everything was
unstudied, and that skill was bestowed not in making an effect, but
merely in seizing on the effects supplied by nature and using them to
the best advantage.
[Illustration: FIG. 193.--ELEVATION OF SIR WATKIN WYNN’S HOUSE
IN ST JAMES’S SQUARE, LONDON.]
[Illustration: FIG. 194.--Houses in Portland Place, London.]
Illustration: FIG. 195.--ADELPHI TERRACE, LONDON.]
Paine did not finish the house. Before it was completed he was replaced
by the brothers Adam, who carried out all the decoration of the
interior and also designed much of the furniture.
Of the brothers Adam (there were four of them), Robert was the most
gifted, and it is his work which gave rise to the well-known “Adam”
style. He, too, had a training of several years in Italy (from 1754
to 1758), but, more adventurous than other students, he paid a visit
of some weeks’ duration to Spalato in Dalmatia, where he occupied
himself, with the help of companions, in taking measurements and
making drawings of Diocletian’s palace. According to one authority[78]
these studies were the foundation of his future style. Much of the
furniture at Kedleston, however, is more nearly allied to the type
established by Kent than to that which we are accustomed to associate
with Adam; presumably he had not yet established his own individuality.
In his architectural work he had a great idea of obtaining “movement”
by giving rhythmical projections to a façade, and a picturesque but
ordered variety to the skyline. This was his intention, and the
adoption of the word is his own; it is doubtful whether observers and
critics would have discovered enough of the one to have adopted the
other of their own accord. Indeed the exteriors of his buildings are
often tame. He broke away, it is true, from the conventions of the
preceding half-century, but although the result was to a certain extent
novel, it can hardly be deemed more attractive. The fact is that he
laboured under the same drawback which beset all the architects of the
eighteenth century, the glorification of architecture at the expense
of practical building. Instead of making his architecture reflect
the requirements of the persons who were to use the edifice, he made
the interior arrangements to fit the preconceived exterior. This is
exemplified in a small instance in the fact that, having designed two
houses to form one architectural composition, he was obliged to make
the party wall cut a window in two, a mutilated half of which lighted
a room in each of two separate houses. We have already seen how the
same sort of difficulty beset Wood’s houses in Bath; and exactly the
same fault in regard to windows is to be found in Grainger’s work at
Newcastle. The absurdity is only fully realised when one of the houses
has to be remodelled or rebuilt, when, among other odd results, it is
found that a window has to be shorn in two, one half removed and the
other left.
Adam’s excellence lies in his eye for proportion, in the refinement
of his detail, and in the fastidious handling of his ornament. A
house in St James’s Square (Fig. 193) and another in Portland Place
(Fig. 194) are characteristic examples of his work. At first sight
they appear insipid, and might easily escape the eye; but when the
attention is once caught it is arrested by the detail which appeals to
the cultivated taste; the intellect is charmed with the extreme care
bestowed upon every part of the ornament, or rather, considering the
enormous amount of work which occupied Adam’s time, by the wonderful
intuition which produced such harmonious results.
[Illustration: FIG. 196.--Doorway in Mansfield Street, London.]
[Illustration: FIG. 197.--Entrance and Porch at 20 Portman
Square, London.]
[Illustration: FIG. 198.--WINDOW AT SUTTON COURT.]
He can hardly be said to have made a permanent mark in his
large architectural conceptions. With the help of his brothers he
rebuilt a whole district of London which was called after them,
“the Adelphi.”[79] The long terrace on an arcaded basement was much
admired, and it has been claimed for him that he planted by the side
of the Thames a worthy version of the splendours of Spalato, but the
building (Fig. 195) hardly bears out this contention. It is Spalato
much diluted. The lesson to be learnt from this as from most of the
architecture of that period is that no reproduction of ancient glories,
whether direct or modified, can be of abiding interest. Architecture
to be interesting must meet certain definite wants, must reflect the
needs of the hour and of the individual, and as these must of necessity
be ever changing, so must architectural expression. Each work of every
architect presents a fresh problem which ought to be solved in its own
way.
It is in particular features, such as doorways, windows, balustrades,
and panels, that Adam’s gift of design shows to the best advantage. A
doorway in Mansfield Street (Fig. 196), with its large fanlight, is
characteristic of one treatment; the projecting porch from Portman
Square (Fig. 197) is equally so of another. The window from Sutton
Court (Fig. 198) would be a prosaic affair, but for the fanlight and
the detail imparted to the surrounding woodwork. It should be noticed
that, in keeping with his delicate mouldings, the sash-bars are thin,
in complete contrast to the more vigorous handling of his predecessors.
The delicacy of his detail was more appropriate to the inside of a
house than to the outside, and nothing pleased him better than to
design the whole decoration of a room--doors, chimney-piece, ceiling,
plaster wall panels, lockplates and door handles, grate, and the whole
of the furniture. Pretty, graceful, and refined, but rarely virile, his
work appeals to the less tumultuous emotions; indeed he made his mark
not so much by his architecture as by his decoration, which exhibits
extraordinary fecundity and fertility of design.
[Illustration: FIG. 199.--Vicarage at Puddletown, Dorset.]
[Illustration: FIG. 200.--House in St Giles, Oxford.]
X
SMALLER HOUSES, TOWN HOUSES, EXTERIOR FEATURES
In the large houses which have been described in the preceding
chapters, it has been impossible to avoid passing a certain amount of
adverse criticism upon the manner in which comfort and convenience were
often sacrificed to the claims of fine architecture, as the term was
understood during the eighteenth century. When we turn to the smaller
houses this drawback is much less in evidence; not because better
architects were employed, for doubtless the unknown designers of these
smaller buildings would have sinned equally with their more famous
brethren, had the opportunity to do so come their way, but because the
occasion demanded no great display, and there was no money wherewith
to make it. Nothing more was wanted than a handsome-looking house
with rooms of suitable size and number. It was very seldom that any
great ingenuity was required of the designers. Two, three, or in the
larger houses, four sitting-rooms, a hall and staircase, a kitchen,
back kitchen, and pantries usually completed the accommodation of the
ground floor; the floor above was occupied by bedrooms, which, if
insufficient, were supplemented by others in the attic. There were no
bathrooms, cloak-rooms, or other sanitary conveniences; it was not
necessary to provide a fireplace to each room. The problems of design
were therefore much simpler than those of the present day. There was
no group of small rooms requiring a convenient yet inconspicuous
situation: there was no need to struggle with single flues from
isolated bedrooms, which could not be led to the main stacks;
this difficulty was met by leaving the rooms without a fireplace.
Nothing is commoner in old houses than to find two or perhaps three
chimney-stacks, the position of which is determined by that of the
sitting-rooms and kitchen, and to find that the bedrooms adjoining
these stacks have fireplaces, while those away from them have none. As
to sanitary conveniences, with the crude means of sewage disposal then
in use, it was impossible to have them in the house; it was only after
the introduction of water carriage that this could be done. In the
ancient days of fortified houses it was of course necessary for them
to be within the walls, and considerable skill was often displayed in
placing them so as to be as innocuous as possible. On Elizabethan plans
they were sometimes retained indoors, but they were obviously a source
of annoyance and danger; in later times, they were removed outside,
and in old houses, here and there, may still be found evidence of the
handsome treatment provided for the family as distinguished from the
servants. The bedrooms, as many old houses still testify, were provided
with some variation of the _chaise percée_.
[Illustration: FIG. 201.--The Court, Holt, near
Bradford-on-Avon.]
[Illustration: FIG. 202.--The Church House, Beckley, Sussex.]
[Illustration: FIG. 203.--House in the High, Oxford.]
[Illustration: FIG. 204.--House at Shrivenham, Berkshire.]
[Illustration: FIG. 205.--House (now the “Seahorse” Inn) at
Deene, Northamptonshire.]
The rooms, therefore, which had to be provided, could all be of a
fair size, and they could be so disposed as to allow their windows to
fall into the symmetrical arrangement, which the exterior treatment
required. The results can be seen in most of our old-fashioned villages
and towns: small manor-houses and parsonages in the former; houses for
the doctor, the lawyer, the well-to-do tradesmen in the latter. The
vicarage at Puddletown, in Dorset (Fig. 199), is an example of the
early years of the century. It has one large chimney-stack in the main
part of the house, and two smaller, and probably later stacks in the
adjoining wing; its wide eaves give it its distinctive character, and
further touches are added by the cut brickwork under the window-sills
and the circular panels in the end. Beyond these there is nothing to
raise emotions either of praise or blame. There is considerably more
attempt at design in the Court at Holt, near Bradford-on-Avon (Fig.
201). This place is in the midst of a district abounding in stone, and
the builders availed themselves of the opportunity to impart a more
pretentious character to their work. The older methods make themselves
felt in the manner in which the eaves cornice is bent up to form a
gable, steeper than classic handling usually permits. Here, again,
there are but two chimney-stacks, one at each end of the house.
The house in St Giles, Oxford (Fig. 200), is rather more imposing.
It is of the period of Wren, and is, indeed, attributed locally to
him. The treatment is large, simple, and dignified, and the effect is
enhanced by the handsome gate-piers which give access, up a few steps,
to the front door. It is evident that here, at any rate, more rooms
have fireplaces than those at the ends of the house. There is another
house at Oxford, in the High Street (Fig. 203), of a later date, which
is quite admirable in its simplicity and careful proportions, and the
front is relieved from baldness by the slight projections at each
end. Compared with the more famous pieces of architecture by which it
is surrounded, this house is insignificant, and may well escape the
attention it deserves. Dating from early in the century is the dower
house at Deene, in Northamptonshire (Fig. 205), now occupied as a
public-house under the sign of the sea-horse, which is the crest of the
family owning the village. It presents a quaint combination of the
steep coped gables of the district prevalent in earlier times, with the
wide eaves, sash-windows, and dormers fashionable when it was built. It
has quite a large number of chimneys, but the dowagers who came from
the great house no doubt looked for the comforts to which they had
always been accustomed. Several of the rooms are decorated with good
panelling and plasterwork, and have had skill and knowledge bestowed
upon their proportions and design.
[Illustration: FIG. 206.--House at Ely, Cambridgeshire.]
[Illustration: FIG. 207.--Rectory at Church Langton,
Leicestershire.]
[Illustration: FIG. 208.--House at Petersham, Surrey.]
The Church House at Beckley, in Sussex (Fig. 202), has no projecting
eaves, but above the cut-brick cornice rises a parapet which
effectually blocks the outlook from the dormer windows. The usual plain
treatment of the walls is here varied by the introduction of a pilaster
at each end of the front, and by carrying up a slight projection from
the keystone of the middle window. The pilasters are surmounted by a
piece of architrave and frieze of the same width as the pilaster, a
device which displays a misconception of classic features. The two main
chimney-stacks are placed at the back of the principal block instead
of at the ends, thus giving them an opportunity to serve rooms behind
as well as those in the front.
The house at Shrivenham, in Berkshire (Fig. 204), is of the more
ordinary type. It has a good eaves cornice, and the usual two
chimney-stacks; the projecting porch forms a pleasing variation, and
the whole house gives the impression of comfort and respectability. So,
too, does the house at Ely (Fig. 206) which faces the green opposite
the west end of the cathedral. It has a chimney-stack at each end,
and a pediment of unusually steep pitch. Like several of the other
examples, it has five windows along the front; the middle one lights
the landing, and the two on each side light the rooms with fireplaces.
Additional importance is given by the large gate-piers, and the
whole effect is dignified and restful, eminently in keeping with the
atmosphere of an old cathedral town. The house at Petersham (Fig. 208)
is of larger size, having seven windows along the front; the three in
the middle are placed in a slight projection round which the cornice
breaks. This projection, together with the bold cornice, the rather
large front door, and the wide window margins, is all there is in the
way of design to give interest to the house. The rectory at Church
Langton, in Leicestershire (Fig. 207), is of somewhat later date,
probably about the beginning of the nineteenth century. Here there is a
decided attempt at architectural effect in the ornamented pediment, the
central arched recess, and the low buildings at the side; but the house
itself is not more commodious inside, nor has it larger rooms than
other houses of the same type. The adjuncts, too, are added for effect
rather than for use.
Houses such as these abound in country districts. There is nothing
particularly notable about them, and very little effort at design. But
as a rule their proportions are pleasing, and the very absence of any
attempt to achieve striking effects is itself one of their charms. They
seem the natural expression of the quiet, uneventful lives led by the
inhabitants, who, like the Vicar of Wakefield, had no adventures save
by the fireside, and no migrations save from the blue bed to the brown.
Their interest varies not so much through difference in design as by
reason of their surroundings, and the variety of creepers which climb
up their walls, and are the less objectionable in that they hide no
architectural detail.
[Illustration: FIG. 209.--THE TUESDAY MARKET-PLACE, KING’S
LYNN.]